"Friends Warehouse Pain...

...Attack their own kind.
A thousand kids bury their parents.
There's laughing outside...

...We're locked out of the public eye.

Some smooth chords,
On the car radio.

No hard chords,
On the car radio.

We set the trash on fire,
And watch outside the door.
Men come up the pavement,
Under the marquee.
There's laughing inside...

We're locked out of the public eye."

One of the finest bands in all of the world, Los Angeles' own X.

God bless them. And the people who appreciate them, both old and new.



The photo is a shot of me directing Ashley to do "something" on 12/26/07 in Garner, NC. Turns out that her house was right down the street from my bestest pal, Toby. I got Lauren out of her cave and she took this (and many others) while I was doing important directorial shit - like pointing.

Years of practice, folks, years of honing my craft...

I love it that Ashley seems to be paying attention to me whilst wielding the devil-sign with her right hand.

That is METAL!

Almost exactly one month ago, and my life is PROFOUNDLY different.

Profoundly.

"Would you put on that long white gown...

...and burn like there's no more tomorrows?
Will you walk with me underground
And forgive all my sicknesses and my sorrows?
Will you be shamed if I shake like I'm dyin'
When I fall to my knees and I'm crying?
Will you visit me where my body rests
Will you put on that long white dress?
Ba dadada, da, badadadada dadada
Ba dadada, da, badadada
The end could be soon, we'd better rent a room
So you can love me
Will you put on that long white dress
While I burn when there's no more tomorrows?
Will you remember me through the years I'll miss
And forget all the sadnesses and the sorrows?
Ba dadada, da, badadadada dadada
Ba dadada, da, badadada
We got buried in the fever
Now you love me
Get a room, so you can love me."

Listen.

It's Mark Lanegan. It's badass.

Speaking of which...

"Cigarettes...

...are gonna kill me, I know.
I gotta get a light before before I hit the door.
Does anybody have a light?
Well, I didn't walk 'cause I need to get right.

So come on and dial the phone, 'cause I need to get some more.
A little something from behind the door.
Well, I've been lonely babe, lonely...

Get the wheel let's go for a ride.
If you trouble me, I'll follow you down.
Baby, yeah, yeah.

Now you say you miss me.
Say I want you back.
Ain't got a little symphony.
Nobody ever taste so sweet.
Someday they're gonna ask whatever happened to me?

So come on and dial the phone, 'cause I need to get a little bit more.
A little something from behind the door.
'Cause, I've been lonely baby, lonely...

Get the wheel and let's go for a ride.
If you trouble me, I'll follow you down.
Baby, yeah.

Last night.
Last night was all right.
I wanna see you again.

Cigarettes are gonna kill me, I know.
I gotta get a light before before I hit the door.
Does anybody have a light?
I didn't walk 'cause I need to get right?

Get the wheel and let's go for a ride.
If you trouble me, I'll follow you down.
Yeah.

Last night.
Last night was all right.
I wanna see you again.

Get the wheel and let's go for a ride.
If you're troubled, I'll follow you down."

If the wine doesn't first...

That's Greg Dulli. Again. Solo.

This is Shakti. Again. Film.

Begin The Begin

Wintery Sunday.
Lunch with Michael Stipe sitting five feet away.
Last day that the restaurant is open.
Lost their lease.
Out of everything Marko wanted.
Photos were taken.
SoHo architecture looming and falling down, replaced by soul-less plastic and glass.
A nice Sunday walk past Lafayette and back.
To the photography bookstore.
Little artifacts of artist's lives.
Jealous.
Motivated.
Hungry.

Quiet now.

This is Shakti.

You know who wrote the title...

BUILD.
A.
CULT.

I Gotta Get A Haircut...

A big thank you to everyone that's checked in on me, looked after me, spent time with me, played pool and bowled with me, made sure I've eaten, sent me brownies, talked me down, and kissed me.

You know who you are.
And you are appreciated and loved.

Photo by Meagan Marie.

The Smell of the Fabric of Your Simple City Dress...

The sea glass, the small split rock, the hours of conversation, the giggles, the crazy noises, the knowing the ramifications, the different "outfit" every day, the driving so far, the waiting so long, the card, the lingering, lingering, lingering, the tempting, tempting, tempting, the beasts, the fearlessness in front of friends, the sighing at just the right time, the shaking of the new haircut to Metallica in a bar with a lopsided pool table, and the smell of the fabric of your simple city dress...


Jeff Buckley is where the title comes from. Yep, that's where it comes from. Poor, dead Jeff Buckley.

I'm not ready for the Mississippi just yet.

"All My Saints Have Taken Bribes...

...Singing going going gone
All the angels taken dives
Leaving you the only one

If I loose a sequin here and there
More salt than pepper in my hair
Can I rely on you
When all the songs are through
To be for me the everthere, everthere

Slide into another book
Now and then laugh out loud
Throw that very dirty look
Which says
OK
Stop staring at me now

If I loose the sequence here and there
Less daring do than quiet care
Can I rely on you
For a good talking to
To be for me the everthere, everthere

If I loose a sequin here and there
And take my time on every stair
Can I rely on you
When this whole thing is through
To be for me the everthere, everthere."

An old Elbow song. They are really, really under-appreciated.

Check them out.

Listen.

There Is Nothing Better...

...than Chicken Pot Pie. Made from scratch and with great care and love.

...than giving a gift you think will be a hit, and finding out you underestimated the response.

...than watching "Children of Men" for the third time on a lazy weekday afternoon, all warm and cozy.

...than receiving a handwritten letter from someone, who then reads it to you.

...than having someone who really admires your work, be tough with you about it.

...than getting the chance to shoot again with one of your favorite subjects.

...than realizing that the muse may be back in the house.

"Now!...

...Your attention please
Now turn off the light
Your infection, please
I haven't got all night

Understand, do you understand?
Understand, I'm a gentleman
I'm a gentleman

I stayed in too long
But she was the perfect fit
And we dragged it out so long this time
Started to make each other sick
But now i've got time for you
For you, you, you and me too
Well, come and get it, come and get it
'Cause i'm done

Understand, do you understand?
Understand, I'm a gentleman
I'm a gentleman

I waited for the joke, it never did arrive
And words I thought I'd smoke

Let me in I'm cold
All messed up but nowhere to go
You got indecision, and indecision is my enemy
Well, unlock the cabinet, hey hey hey
I'll take whatever you got got
Now I'm on it, now I'm on it
And you're done

I waited for the joke
It never did arrive
And words I thought I'd choke
I hardly recognize"

Another Dulli masterpiece.

Listen.

Baby, you be sweet.

Here's Sarah. From a long time ago.


Your attention please...

"Hear me now and don't forget...

...I'm not the man my actions would suggest
A little boy, I'm tied to you
I fell apart
That's what I always do

This ain't about regret
My conscience can't be found
This time I won't repent
Somebody's going down

Feel it now and don't resist
This time the anger's better than the kiss
I must admit when so inclined
I tend to lose it than confront my mind

'Cause it don't bleed and it don't breathe
It's locked its jaws and now it's swallowing
It's in our heart
It's in our head
It's in our love
Baby it's in our bed

Tonight I go to hell
For what I've done to you
This ain't about regret
It's when I tell the truth

And once again the monster speaks
Reveals his face and searches for release
A little boy is tied to you
Attracted only 'til it comes unglued."

An OLD Afghan Whigs song. And it ain't about me.

You folks are probably tired of Greg Dulli at this point, right?

Well, fuck you.

Here's Erin. I shot her in November when I was waiting for my baby to come back home.

"All Alone, All Alone...

...No one to play with
Your eyes are all swollen from crying
Feeling sick
You open it
And discover your lover between the legs of another
And he's loving it
Let me lie to you
Let me lie to you
I'll be kind when I deceive you
But you must never question me
Just quietly believe
There, there
You haven't a care
I won't ever hurt you, deny or desert you
Don't ask me again
Wake up! And listen to thee
Someone must have told you
Someone must control you
Before you can get free."

An old Afghan Whigs tune.



Evelyn, from a long time ago.

But hanging right outside of the bathroom door.

"The Storm Was Blowing From The South...

...The blood was running from your mouth
I recall the music playing
Couldn't hear what you were saying
The cat was howling, yowling, wanting out

You may not believe me
Baby, when I tell you
That I am Mr. Superlove

The glass was shattered on the floor
A hundred pieces maybe more
I remember you were crying
Just before you sent it flying
The sirens sounding
The pounding on the door

You may not believe me
Baby, when I tell you
That I am Mr. Superlove

Falling out
Falling out
Falling out
We had a falling out

Your clothes were lying on the chair
Your face was hidden by your hair
And all that I could think of then
Was what it must have felt like when
You were flying naked
Headlong down the stairs

You may not believe me
Baby, when I tell you
That I am Mr. Superlove"



The lyrics to an old Ass Ponies song...

Yes. That's right. Ass Ponies.

Look it up.

"It Don't Matter, When You Turn...

...Gonna survive, live and learn.
I've been thinking about you, baby.

By the light of dawn.
And in my blues, day and night I've been missing you.
I've been thinking about you, baby.
Come and live with me.

Either way, win or lose.
When you're born into trouble.
You live the blues.
I've been thinking about you, baby.
See, it almost makes me crazy.

Nothing's right, without you here.
I'll give all that I have, just to keep you near.
I wrote you a letter, I tried to make it clear.
You don't seem to think that i'm sincere.
I've been thinking about you, baby.
Come live with me.

Plans and schemes, hopes and fears.
Dreams I've deny, for all these years.
I've been thinking about you, baby
Makes me wanna...

Nothing's right, if you ain't here.
I'll give all that I have, just to keep you near.
I wrote you a letter, I tried to make it clear.
But you don't seem to think that I'm sincere.

I've been thinking about you, baby
Come live with me."

The lyrics to an old Massive Attack song.

Another shot of Anais, my first and only shoot of 2008.

Burt's Bees "Merlot." That's the lipstick.

Drug Delivery System: 2008, Part Two

This is my newest, most favorite photograph that I've ever taken.

Might be personally defining. I KNOW it is. It was taken in my living room.

Fuji NPZ800 120.

Mr. Dulli continues to speak to me and helps get me through this shit. I said this to Lauren in Raleigh over the "holidays" - there are two themes in his work. One - he got fucked over. Two - he fucked someone over.

I didn't fuck no one over. No one. Ever.

So, I like half of his work right now. I'll keep the other half for when I do fuck someone over. It's good, too.

I've never appreciated his current and back catalog as much as I do now.

It's nice when your personal poets come to your rescue.

Bravery.

I stole a ticket to see him on Valentine's Day tonight. Sold out show.

I don't have any idea what I'm gonna do next, but I'm gonna do something, I promise, I'm gonna do something.

Might be move to Berlin. Might be sell my ass on 23rd Street. Might just sit here and work out my anger through my work and my personal motivations. Might join a Monastery. Might do heroin. Might, might, might...

Probably will just try to find comfort in my new life. Somehow. Somewhere. Someone. My friends.

Did I mention this: friends are important.

I think I did.

I don't think anything is funny anymore. And I've got a great sense of humor. Every little thing is so profoundly upsetting, so poignant, so stupid, so human, so insane.

My New Year's Resolution? All filters off. To say, act and create exactly what I feel - everyone else be damned.

Fuck you.

Stay tuned.

Angst isn't pretty.

Here's how Dulli felt:

"Since you're aware of the consequences
I can pimp what's left of this wreck on you
Bit into a rotten one, now didn't you?
Now I can watch you chew
Did you have blinders on my dear
Or were you just willing?
Or was I unaware of the damage a lie can do?
I thought you knew
Listen up
Drive it off
Punctuate it with a smoker's cough
Light it up
Stick around
I told you somebody's going down, now
Spit it up
Get it out
Let me kiss that beautiful mouth
Tell me is it the same?
My sweetness, my everything
And is this condescending a comfort at all to you?
We bit into a rotten one
Now didn't we?
Well, baby now it's through"

The First Shot of '08

My good friend (see definition in the last post) Christopher Bush had a great idea tonight that harkened back to something we agreed to do several months ago before the end of the year: a two-fer shoot.

We we're slightly late, but not remiss.

So, Anais showed up tonight ready and willing and we both shot her. A lot of film. Some digital (me) and it was awesome.

Chris did all the work, I provided the location.

The shot below is the only one I really pre-visualized.

And I'm really fucking happy with it.

The rug, I expect, is leaving.

The jacket, however, is staying.

2008

I've decided to break recent tradition here and type some shit.

Here's the thing about 2008 that I know already: good friends, and I mean good friends, are important. More important, sometimes, than family and significant others.

And if you want to challenge me on that, you should really, really think twice.

Good friends always love you, regardless of the mistakes you make, the things you say and the mood you are in. They buy you dinner, drinks and make you eat it. Regardless of the nausea.

They listen. They argue. They care.

They do not take advantage of you under any circumstances.
They do not take advantage of you under any circumstances.
They do not take advantage of you under any circumstances.

They love you unconditionally. Just like significant others and family are supposed to.

A good friend of mine told me tonight that 2008 was going to be great. And he wasn't just bullshitting. Even though he couldn't explain it, I believe him.

Even as I have another cigarette.

Fuck me.

Stay tuned.

Thanks for tuning in and checking back. I'm not jaded, I'm a realist, and I really appreciate it.



Here's a song by Pulp from "This Is Hardcore" - their masterpiece.

Listen

It's called "The Fear"

Jarvis Cocker wrote it. He's a genius. I'd have dinner with him in a heartbeat.

And here are the lyrics:

"This is our Music from A Bachelors Den
- the sound of loneliness turned up to ten.
A horror soundtrack from a stagnant water-bed & it sounds just like this.
This is the sound of someone losing the plot -
making out that they're okay when they're not.
You're gonna like it, but not a lot & the chorus goes like this:

Oh Baby, here comes the fear again.
The end is near again.
A monkey's built a house on your back.
You can't get anyone to come in the sack
& here comes another panic attack.
Oh here we go again.

So now you know the words to our song,
pretty soon you'll all be singing along.
When you're sad, when you're lonely & it all turns out wrong.
When you've got the fear.
& when you're no longer searching for beauty or love -
just some kind of life with the edges taken off.
When you can't even define what it
is that you are frightened of
this song will be here.

Oh Baby, here comes the fear again.
The end is near again.
If you ever get that chimp off your back.
If you ever find the thing that you lack
but you know you're only having a laugh
& here we go again.
Until the end
Until the end"

And the picture. Yeah, the picture.

It's of a girl named Meagan from a long time ago...

"Love is all you need, and all you need is love...

...Love is all you need, and all you need is love.
We go underground, cuz there's emptiness above.
She loves you yeah-yeah-yeah...
She loves you yeah-yeah-yeah...
She loves you yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah.

A line from an old Twilight Singers' song. With a little help from Messers Lennon and McCartney.



My last photo of 2007. And my current favorite of Meagan. We both agree that it just screams "sex."

"I Know It's Over...

...Love is natural and real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love."



A line from an old The Smiths' song.

My first photo of 2008.